Saving the End: The Villainess Redemption

Chapter 3

"Alina, look at me," Diego said, his voice as steady as he could fake it while his heart performed a drum solo against his ribs. "The gun. It’s empty, isn't it? You had two rounds. One for the floor to scare them, and one for that guy’s leg because he didn't listen. There’s no more 'next one,' is there?"

Alina’s grip on the pistol tightened until her knuckles turned a ghostly white. Her eyes, sharp and dark as obsidian, darted between Diego and the two looters who had followed him up from the lobby. "How do you know that? Who the hell are you?"

"I’m the guy who’s trying to keep you from ending up like the guy on the floor," Diego replied, slowly stepping further into the living room. "Actually, I’m the guy who’s trying to keep us all from ending up as snacks. Put the gun down, Alina. Grab the knife on the counter. It’s more reliable."

The lead looter, a man with a jagged scar across his chin, let out a harsh, jagged laugh. "You hear this clown? He’s giving her tactical advice while we’re standing right here. Hey, kid! You think that little axe makes you a big man? We’ve got a crowbar and a lead pipe. You do the math."

"The math says you’re already dead," Diego snapped, his eyes never leaving Alina. "You’re making a lot of noise. You’re shouting. You’re bleeding. You might as well be ringing a dinner bell."

"Shut up!" the second looter barked, stepping toward the kitchen island. "Give us the bag, give us the girl, and maybe we don't beat your head in."

"Alina, move to the left," Diego whispered, his voice dropping an octave.

"Don't tell me what to do," she hissed, though she did shift her weight. Her hand moved toward the counter, her fingers brushing the handle of a heavy chef's knife. "I don't know you. I don't trust you."

"You don't have to trust me. You just have to listen," Diego said. He glanced at the small boy huddled behind the sofa—Mikhail. The kid looked about eight, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. "Mikhail, buddy, you need to crawl under that dining table. Right now. Don't look at the windows."

The boy froze. "How... how do you know my name?"

"Just do it, kid!" Diego yelled.

The looter with the crowbar lunged. "I'm sick of this talk! Get him!"

"Wait!" Alina screamed, swinging the empty handgun like a club.

The room exploded into motion, but not because of the looters. A sound like a gunshot—but deeper, more crystalline—echoed through the apartment. The massive floor-to-ceiling window in the living room didn't just break; it shattered inward as if something had been fired through it.

A blur of bruised purple and grey muscle tore through the glass.

"Crawler!" Diego roared.

The creature was smaller than the one in the hallway, but faster. It skittered across the ceiling with a sickening wet sound, its many-jointed limbs clicking against the plaster. It didn't care about the looters. It didn't care about Diego. Its milky, sightless eyes were fixed on the smallest heat signature in the room.

Mikhail.

"Mikhail! Run!" Alina screamed, her voice cracking with pure terror. She lunged forward, but the looter with the crowbar grabbed her hair, pulling her back.

"Let go of me! My brother! Let go!"

"Stay down, girl! It's just a—holy shit, what is that thing?!" The looter froze, his face draining of color as he looked up.

The Crawler dropped from the ceiling, its mouth opening like a blooming flower of needles, aimed straight for the boy under the table.

"Not today, you freak!"

Diego didn't think. He didn't have time to remember he was a minor character or that he was supposed to be a coward. He launched himself across the coffee table, the fire axe swinging in a wide, desperate arc.

The blade caught the Crawler mid-air, slicing through its soft underbelly. Dark, viscous ichor sprayed across the carpet, smelling like old copper and stagnant water. The creature slammed into the side of the dining table, screeching a sound that felt like teeth being dragged across a chalkboard.

"Mikhail, move! Now!" Diego scrambled to his feet, his boots slipping on the monster’s blood.

The boy scrambled out from under the table, sprinting toward his sister.

The Crawler wasn't dead. It flipped over, its limbs twitching as it tried to regain its footing. Its ears—those needle-like protrusions—twitched toward Diego’s heavy breathing.

"Hey! Over here, you overgrown grape!" Diego swung the axe again, but the creature was fast. It leaped onto the wall, hissing.

"Diego, watch out!"

It was Alina’s voice. She had broken free from the looter—who was currently paralyzed by fear—and she was holding the chef’s knife. She didn't run away. She stepped toward the creature.

"Get back, Alina!" Diego warned.

"I've got it!" she yelled.

She threw the knife. It wasn't a professional throw, but it was close enough. The blade buried itself in the creature’s flank. The Crawler shrieked and lunged at her.

"No!" Diego stepped in the way, shoulder-charging the monster with all his weight.

He felt the cold, slimy skin against his arms as they tumbled to the floor. The Crawler’s claws scraped against his Kevlar vest, the sound of tearing fabric filling his ears. He jammed the handle of the axe into the creature’s open maw, holding it back as the rows of teeth snapped inches from his throat.

"Die! Just die already!"

Diego reached for the survival knife at his belt. He pulled it and stabbed blindly into the side of the creature’s head. Once. Twice. Three times.

The Crawler’s body went limp, its weight pinning him to the floor. Its blood soaked into his shirt, warm and disgusting. Diego pushed the carcass off him, gasping for air, his lungs burning.

He looked up. The two looters were already gone, having bolted out the open door the second the monster appeared.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the distant sounds of the city screaming and the low hum of the purple sky.

Diego wiped a smear of black blood from his forehead. "Is... is everyone okay?"

Mikhail was sobbing, clinging to Alina’s waist. Alina was standing over them, the empty handgun back in her hand, but her eyes were fixed on Diego. They weren't filled with gratitude. They were filled with a cold, terrifying calculation.

She stepped forward, the muzzle of the gun—empty or not—pointed straight at his eyes.

"Don't move," she said, her voice trembling but sharp. "Drop the axe. Drop the knife."

Diego let out a shaky breath. "Alina, I just saved your brother. I just killed that thing."

"I don't care," she snapped. "You know my name. You know my brother’s name. You knew about the gun. You knew that... that thing was coming."

Diego slowly opened his hands, letting the fire axe clatter to the floor. He reached for his belt and unbuckled the sheath of his survival knife, letting it drop as well. He raised his palms in the air.

"I’m not a threat, Alina. I promise."

"You’re a stranger who knows too much," she said, stepping closer. "In a world that just ended ten minutes ago, that makes you the biggest threat in the room."

"I'm just a guy who read the warning signs," Diego lied, his heart still racing. "The news, the 'aurora,' the atmospheric readings... I put it together. I'm a researcher. A hobbyist. Does it matter? We need to get out of here. More of those things are coming."

"How did you know he was under the table?" she challenged, her eyes narrowing. "How did you know he was even here? This apartment is registered to my aunt. My name isn't on the door."

Diego looked at her—really looked at her. This was the woman who, in the original story, would go on to lead an army of the undead, her heart turned to stone by the loss of her brother on the first day. But here he was. Mikhail was alive. The timeline was already splintering.

"I knew because I came here specifically for you," Diego said, choosing his words carefully.

"Why?"

"Because you're special, Alina. And I don't mean that in some creepy, stalker way. Your blood... it’s different. When the 'Shift' happened, when that purple light hit the city, it changed things. Some people die. Some people turn into those monsters. And a very few... they become something else."

Alina’s hand wavered. "You’re crazy."

"Maybe. But I’m a crazy guy with a car and a plan to get out of the North Sector," Diego said. "The bridge is down, the tunnels are crawling with those things, and the air is going to turn toxic in about two hours. You and Mikhail can stay here and wait for the next Crawler, or you can come with me."

Alina looked down at Mikhail, then back at Diego. She lowered the gun, but she didn't put it away.

"You haven't answered the most important question, 'researcher,'" she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

"What's that?"

"How did you know my name? I've never seen you in my life. I don't go to the gym you probably pretend to work out at, and I don't run in your trust-fund circles. So tell me the truth, or I’ll find out if this gun really is empty by putting it against your temple."

Diego took a step back, his back hitting the wall. He looked at the shattered window, at the purple sky, and then at the future Empress of Blood.

"I know your name," Diego said, "because I'm the only person in this world who knows how your story is supposed to end. And trust me, Alina... you don't want that ending."

Alina stared at him, the silence in the room growing heavy.

"Who are you really, Diego Ramirez?" she asked.

"I'm the guy who’s going to make sure you don't become a monster," Diego replied. "Now, grab a bag. We have five minutes before the Seekers arrive, and if they catch us, there won't be enough of us left to have a conversation."